The Festival Which Changed My Life

The sun rises across Bramham Park. Dawn’s light shines down upon the multicoloured burrows of the many who flock here each August bank holiday for the annual festival ceremony. One can hear the mating calls of many, and alarm calls from others, as predators flock to steal firewood and unsuspecting left Welly boots. The noises of “Leeds you what you what” echo through the park as weary wanderers stumble through the mud to relocate their pack. Those who are hungry begin to forage for their food, hunting and gathering the remains of a ten-pound note to scrape together enough to buy a breakfast burrito. Water is gathered from a hosepipe a ten-minute walk away, after the shocking discovery that “that Evian bottle is filled with vodka, don’t brush your teeth with it”. No, this isn’t the beginning of a David Attenborough documentary: it is setting the scene of Leeds Festival, the first festival I ever attended.

For me, Leeds was a rite of passage into the next stage of adolescence. This is something all students from my school would experience at the end of their GCSE and A-Level exams (we even had a mural in the sixth form common room which included the festival logo). This was the first time I had ever gone away with only my friends. The festival line up included the likes of The Arctic Monkeys, The Courteeners, Disclosure and Bombay Bicycle Club to name a few.

One of my close friends and myself embarked on the journey together, with cans of cider hidden in socks and bags of wine hidden in cooler bags full of brunch bars and sandwiches. ‘Close friends’ is definitely a term we used after the festival - it was the first time we had spent a long time together just the two of us. Nothing will bring you closer to a person than having to peel them out of their wellies at the end of a night and spending a weekend in close proximity with only a ‘baby wipe wash’ being the basic standard of hygiene. In many ways, the foundation of our friendship became the shared experience we had at festivals and concerts. Although university separated us, preventing us from going to concerts together, it is always something we enjoy doing reunited, regardless of how long it’s been since we last saw each other.

Over that weekend, I witnessed people duct-taped to chairs as a forfeit for not drinking a can of lager fast enough, people snowboarding down a mud slope on deflated mattresses or ironing boards, and far too much human excrement for a lifetime (never mind a weekend). Orange hill campsite became base for everyone we travelled to Leeds with, and it was never too difficult to find someone you knew at the left-hand side of the silent disco tent. With a capacity of 75,000, maintaining a sense of community with those around you in the campsites was not only something to be applauded but was also the most notable part of the festival for me. 

The sense of community and euphoria in a crowd at a festival is possibly the best experience ever. I imagine if I ever had a flashback montage of the best moments in my life, where my heart felt full and my hangover hadn’t yet kicked in, those moments in the crowds of concerts would definitely be there. The Courteeners concert in particular was one of those moments. It’s hard to picture in a post-pandemic world, but strangers grouped together, all connected by their love of the same music, singing and dancing together under the warm pink glow of flares released from the front of the crowd is one of the most amazing experiences I’ve been lucky to have. The song ‘Not 19 Forever’, in particular, emphasises this, especially as these fleeting moments in life become the ones we cherish so fondly. Anybody who has ever seen me hungover over the years can also testify I have definitely not remained nineteen forever, and unfortunately, nowadays three full days of drinking and late nights would see me bed bound for a week afterwards.

These concerts however, opened my eyes to how different people from different walks of life can all come together and be completely invested in a few shared moments. I think for me, the sense of community which comes from these festivals is the most life changing thing I experienced. You can feel completely separated from those around you, lacking a sense of community, but twenty minutes in a field full of strangers singing your favourite songs can change all of that. It was at these times that I truly experienced what life was about and learnt what it meant to be part of something larger than myself. For me, Leeds Festival wasn’t just a bad hangover, and it’s safe to say the memories of those weekends have definitely lingered a lot more than the smell (thankfully).  


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Written by Sam Turnbull

Sam has just graduated from Newcastle University where she studied English Literature and French. Sam has recently moved back home with her parents and enjoys long walks with her dog George, pints of Desperados on draft, karaoke, pina coladas and getting caught in the rain.

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